Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall
by queenofthelab23
Summary: Post-Legacy. Aaron remembers Marta's blood on his shoes; that was the beginning of the end. Introspective Marta/Aaron heavy. Inspired by retwin! WARNING. M rated from chapter two. To be continued in Radical Violence and Other Fairytales
1. Chapter 1

Hello :) I have to give some kudos here to retwin for her comment on my other fanfic, Anchored. The inspiration came from the brilliant comment that Aaron and Marta are basically living a noir rom com-esque life and I went with it. This is separate to Anchored, however (the next chapter of that will be up before Monday night, promise!) Until then, I had to get this out of my system and see what you guys think. Special mention to Jack E. Peace too. Those comments made me want to write something new.

If you like it, please review. One shots are basically my mind thinking and then me typing it down...

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Winter, Spring, Summer, and Fall

It's been a year, a whole year. A year without any sign of bullets, violence, danger… nothing. The last time something had happened, the last battle they had fought side by side, the unthinkable almost occurred. In the midst of dead government snipers, bullies, agents and Outcome, Marta had been stabbed. And that…that changed everything for him. Aaron Cross would take no more. No more bullets. No more violence and danger. No more innocent blood spilt on his shoes. Especially not the lost blood of Marta Shearing. He destroyed it all. Took no hostages and blew it wide open while the blood was still wet on his feet. It took the near-death of Marta to turn Aaron into the oncoming storm.

Now he stands by a sink in the early morning, where dawn hasn't quite broken through the darkness. The sink is filling with cold water in their tiny cottage somewhere on the far coast of England. For fifty miles, they're isolated; their beautiful old house is surrounded by rich, dense woodlands and covered from above so no satellite can detect their idyllic bit of land. Maybe it's paradise of sorts but to Aaron it's a training ground. Every day he heads out into the woods and practices his skills. In his head, there's less dexterity in his moves, longer response time from his ears when he hears deer and rabbits bounding around in their back yard. The changes he's gone through are meant to be permanent but he makes sure to keep himself in check every day, religiously cataloguing everything he does to make sure he can keep her safe this time. She deserves a life again.

Aaron turns off the faucets on the sink and sighs, hunching over it with the weight of a world on his aching old back. A whole year without an incident is unprecedented. He isn't sure if they're safe or if there are people out there lulling them both into a false sense of security, just biding their time until they catch him unawares and destroyed it all as he did to them. As it turns out the easy part is hiding; the hard part is believing you're well hidden. His roughened palms scoop the water up and splash it across his face, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes. The cottage is little more than stone and cement, with wood holding it together: an abandoned castle. Aaron had kissed the ground when he discovered it had running water from an old reserve nearby; a luxury in the world of people on the run-and-hide of living. It'd become their home. She's planted vegetables, picked apples in the Fall and cherries in the Summer. She's looking after the chickens and she wants a goat next. He can't help but indulge her fantasies of a rural arcadia. It's taken Aaron a few months to fix up the cottage so it's liveable but the smile on her face every morning as it came into being is still worth it. A few battered corners and a leaking roof are easily fixed when there aren't people hunting you.

He grabs the bar of soap from the shelf and starts washing, rinsing a cloth over his naked torso. He glances over through the open door to Marta, asleep on their makeshift bed, and smiles. It turns out that something that should have been complicated, that should have been messy and challenging had turned out to be… simple. Loving Marta is the easiest thing Aaron has ever done. Hand holding, kissing, having sex, laughing, sharing his past and learning hers is just so easy. She is so beautiful and fierce; he can't help but fall in love with her, like no man could either. He turns back from her form, tangled in the sleeping bag. This life is complicated but at least there is one thing they can't take away from him anymore: the love of a good woman saving a broken man. He rinses off the soap from his body and runs his fingers through his damp hair. Who'd have believed they'd been here a nearly a year and had no one barge themselves into their perfect little world?

Aaron drains the sink and grabs a ratty towel from the side, drying his face and torso. He closes his eyes and hears the wind rattling the trees and birds whistling. Then, ever so lightly, he hears footsteps. Soft little footsteps trying to catch him unawares. She did it intermittently, tried to catch him off-guard and sneak up on him. He appreciates the challenge but he knew her footsteps too well. It is always easy. Arms wrap themselves around his stomach and lips press on a scar on his shoulder.

"Did I at least get a footstep past you?" she murmurs, looking into the rusting old mirror bolted to the wall in front of him.

He opens his eyes and chuckles, "Nearly. Better luck next time."

Marta smiles and kisses his neck. "You're more brooding than usual today." So nothing slips by her after all.

"It's been quiet." He threads her fingers with his and runs a calloused thumb across her palm. How she's managing to keep her skin softer than silk, he's got no idea. "I'm not sure it's good."

"We haven't had anyone come near us since Japan. They think I'm dead."

He turns in her arms and looks at her, a hand threading through her dark hair and holding the side of her face in a cradle. "You were dead, Marta. You died."

"For twenty seconds –" she starts. She always starts this.

"Twenty three seconds, Marta. Your heart stopped beating for twenty three seconds. I cracked your rib doing CPR." He remembers.

He remembers shooting a man-in-black in the stomach. He remembers turning and seeing Marta land a confident punch on another one like he taught her to. He remembers seeing a knife and being too slow. Aaron remembers seeing it slice into her abdomen like she was made of snow. The blood that immediately bloomed down her stomach incensed him. He shot that man in the head and rushed to her side as she collapsed to her knees. He remembers the pallid calm in her eyes and hated how resigned she was to her own death. He felt her fall into his arms and remembers refusing to let her die for his mistakes. He remembers too much, it seems. Too much death and pain and violence on her part. She was dead for twenty three seconds before he got her heart going again and stemmed the blood flow from her stomach with his own shirt. It took her months to heal properly. He still can't forget her ashen dead face cradled in his elbow like a child.

"Aaron." She says softly, fingers gripping his wrist. "Stop remembering it."

He opens his eyes again and rests her forehead on his, his breath heavy. His other hand swipes across her stomach absently. She had come so close to the end and he had come so close to his. "I can't, Marta."

Her fingers drift to his arms. "You will one day."

"But not today…" He mutters, leaning in and kissing her violently hard. He had to claim her again. Make himself believe they're hidden and alive. They have to be alive.

"Aaron." She moans against his lips. "Aaron it's…"

"Stop talking, Doc."

She smiles, "Stop bossing me around."

Marta brings him back to her lips and he sighs happily. The memories melt away into nothing but a bad dream. She's here. It's all that matters now.

"I love you." Marta whispers. Aaron's alive again.

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A/N: So, what do you awesome people think? Special hugs all around!


	2. Chapter 2

It turns out I can't stay away from the noir rom com Marta/Aaron. I place blame entirely on one person for this chapter (you know who you are!) but thank you :) It's completely, unashamedly dirty and soppy and I love this to pieces because Aaron's living a life he's never had with a woman he doesn't think he deserves (he's a little angsty).

Thank you all so so so so much for all the nice reviews I've gotten for these fics and ficlets. I honestly don't think I would want to be a better writer if I didn't have people appreciating it. It's like a release valve for when my life gets boring.

Btw, if you want to harrass me for another installment, you can catch me on Twitter at queenofthelab

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2

She's imperfect and that makes her perfect. Aaron kisses her harder and harder, turning her around and pressing her soft form up against that creaky old sink. She's intoxicating him. He couldn't care less if they were bombed from their home in the next five seconds, Aaron would never stop kissing her supple lips. The sink creaks a little with her weight and he finds it thrills him. They could destroy the whole house with their sexual fantasies and he'll protect her from harm, lavish her with pleasure and avoid the pain unless she likes it. He wonders absently how far she's ever gone with another man in her fantasies. He knows she has them, when they had sex and his held her throat a little, her moans got louder and he could feel her clench around him that little bit tighter. Marta Shearing could be a secret masochist and he wouldn't know it yet. He could tie her up to something and eke out orgasm after orgasm all day long worshipping her body. Yes, that sounds like a good idea to him. He breaks away from her lips and smirks.

"You've got that look in your eye again, Cross." She bites her lip. He does love it when she acts all innocent and virginal, like she's never been touched, like she's never been bad. He's seen the extent of her voracious appetite for survival. It's nearly killed both of them.

"You love it though…" he threads his fingers through her dark hair, the smell of her igniting his heightened senses like a drug. He's high as a fucking kite. "You know you want me."

His lips ghost over her jaw. She moans. He smirks. "Fuck you."

"Gladly." He wraps an arm around her waist and sucks on that part of her neck that makes her knees give out.

Aaron can feel her beneath him, her muscles twitching, her nerves sparking, her breath hitching all because he's sucking on one sweet part of her skin he wants to taste. He feels like playing her keys, bringing Marta's beautiful eyes to a begging plead for release. He took her sometimes just because she swayed her hips a certain way or because the sunlight through the trees paints her body like no artist could or, once, because he was lewd and she'd slapped him and sent a thrill down his spine at her unashamed domination of him. What man could resist a woman like her? He was weak and proud. His teeth start to scrape down her collar, plucking at the buttons on her thin little blouse. The flesh beneath the white as wedding fabric flushes dark pink as he kisses along it. He sings the praises as he gets onto his knees in front of her. It was all about _her._

"This is unprecedented." She looks down at him. He smirks up at her and kisses just above her bellybutton, "Usually you can't wait to drag me to the nearest solid surface and take me."

"I was wrong." He murmurs, reaching up and pulling the shirt from her arms. "I should spend every minute with my lips on your skin. I don't know why I haven't before."

Marta gasps a little as he kisses back up. Navel to collar, even spread kisses spark little electric bolts through him. Fuck. She even tastes like life.

"Maybe this… this'll teach you to appreciate me…" She chuckles a little but it's broken off with another moan as he rips off her bra deftly. "Okay, I'll admit that was impressive." She licks her lips. She knows how to seduce too. Oh yes. He was going to give her some more surprises.

His fingers thread through her hair tenderly, angling her head backwards a little. Aaron just looks at her and smiles, learning the lines in her throat, the muscles in her jaw that twitch. "I'm not about to say something profound or anything but…" he leans in and kisses her softly. It's as soft as he's ever been with her. "I hope this is enough for now."

Marta closes her eyes and nods. He wants her white flag.

"Now that's better." His fingers unthread and slide so slowly down her sides to settle on her tiny waist. Her scars almost match his now. Maybe she was closer to being an Agent than even she realises. Aaron pushes those thoughts from his head at the sight of her breasts.

Marta Shearing tastes like life and blood in his lips as he sucks on her breast. His tongue lathes around her nipple and he bites and sucks hard, taking no prisoners. He needs to know she can stand up to whatever he puts her through. She'll have her own tests for him as they make a new life together, they have to be together, he cannot fail her tests. Maybe this is one of them. Seeing how far it'll take her to make him bend to her will. She's definitely not one to be underestimated in anyway. He's seen her fell men twice her size and make them beg for mercy. His hand parts her thighs and paints little patterns onto her clothed skin. He's not going to last long with a goddess such as her. Her impatience makes her needy and she writhes around on edge of the sink, her fingers digging into the porcelain so her skin goes pale. Bits of stone and plaster fall down from the fitting around his feet. He falls back down onto his knees and they cut him. He doesn't care. He peels off her sweatpants and takes them off her, kissing her thighs. "Now you're going to tell me what you want." He smirks.

Wind her up and let her spin. "Bossy." She moans. He nudges her thighs further apart and strokes a finger over her wet underwear. "Aaron!" Marta cries out.

"Yes? Go on…" he strokes again, a fingertip drifting under the elastic. He wants her to beg before he tears them from her body.

"I need you." She gasps again and looks down at him, panting. He's barely touching her and yet she's like fire consuming him.

"Where?"

"You goddamn well know where, now touch me!" He's imagining her stamping her foot petulantly. "Aaron."

"Wicked woman." He drags the panties from her body and down her legs, tossing them away. Nothing was left but her naked on a plinth above him. Aaron licks up her thigh and caresses his tongue over her entrance.

Fuck. She's moaning so wantonly, his tongue getting coated in her wetness. She tastes of everything he's ever wanted and still wants. He buries himself between her thighs and makes her cry out loud, his hands squeezing her pert ass happily. Aaron thinks idly to all the other women he's been with and has no doubt Marta's the only one he'll ever want to taste again. She peels her fingers through his hair and tugs him back to her body as she starts to come. He wants to watch her face as he takes her over the precipice for the first time that day. Aaron smirks as Marta cries out, her knees buckling slightly and slipping. He catches her hips in his hands and doesn't stop. Tongue darting in and out, sucking, licking, and nipping at her delicate, tender pink flesh. He's so hard it aches but this is about her; worshipping her body and giving thanks for all she's given him in chances. She never should have forgiven him for nearly getting her killed the day everything changed; she shouldn't be so willing to throw her life away on a man like him. He's glad she is.

"Aaron… fuck…" she moans, nearly ripping out the hair between her fingers.

He sucks hard on her clit and she comes just as roughly, screaming out her release into the hollow sounding bathroom. He laps her up and devours all he can get his own greedy tongue around. He hears her panting and whimpering as the tip of his tongue circles around her.

Finally, reluctantly, he pulls back, smirking up at her like the cat with the proverbial cream. It's a rather appropriate thing. He stands up and kisses her hard. Aaron leans down and scoops her up into his arms. _This was how he carried her when she was dying. Don't think about. Enjoy this. _Marta leans into his neck, kissing it lazily. He thinks she's enjoying being his centre of attention for once. Aaron lays her back down inside their sleeping bag, the whole thing opened up like arms that cradle them. The soft lamb's wool inside makes her look like she's floating on a cloud and for a second he believes she's an angel. He loves her. It's an easy choice to make. "Marta." He kneels, one leg between hers and the other astride, "Marta, do you want to stay here?"

She frowns for a second. He knows she loves it here and he wants to give her it all for her sacrifices. "It's not safe here…"

"Not safe anywhere." He mumbles, looking down at his avenging angel. "Do you want to stay?"

She chews on her lips and he wants to kiss her again but he wants an answer. "Yes."

That's all he needs. It's all he wants. It almost scares him how much he'd do for her. Aaron bends and presses a kiss to her lips, her hands and bare feet pulling down his moth eaten sweats that cling to his hips. Aaron kisses her neck and whispers epithets of love and beauty in Russian as he slides inside her. He doesn't need rough, he doesn't need soft, he needs her. Marta gasps and wraps her whole body up around him. She's nirvana and _so fucking tight_ _and hot_ around him still he wants to savour her. He nips at her skin and pulls out, thrusting his cock into her to the hilt. It elicits her gasp of pleasure and he can feel her clench around him. Can't stop. Won't stop. Need more. More Marta, please. He pants a little and leans back, putting her ankles on his shoulders and driving home deeply hard and fast into her body. She screams his name over and over, her breasts bouncing as he needs more of her, more of her curves that cry out for him to touch, more of her voice, more of her smell and tightness around him. He grunts and bends her knees as close to her chest as he can, fucking her deep and hard like he knows she could take. Like he knows she craves, the danger and lust spark and sizzle and burn them both. It's a wonder they've stayed so intense for a year now.

"Aaron, don't leave me." She moans out between the sounds of his thrusts.

"Never." He lets her legs go and they wrap securely behind his back, "Fuck, Marta, I am never letting you go." He moans out her name.

Aaron kisses her again and again until she comes around him hard. He's a weak man. So weak for the beautiful brave woman that she is. He wants her so bad. He won't stop until she believes he loves her too.

Her fingers caress his muscled back and he comes deep inside her, calling her name into her neck in his final prayer.

The world comes slowly back to them. They don't move, wrapped around each other, bathed in each other's sweat and pleas. He loves her and she loves him. They'll spend their lives together, whether on the run to places around the world she's never seen or to a settled life like he's never seen. Maybe it's all just potential energy manifested between them. When Marta Shearing died a year ago, Aaron Cross changed. It was only when he made her heart beat again that he gave her a life worth living and gave himself another chance.

He wants to stay.

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A/N: This is dedicated to shirtless Jeremy Renner and my own lack of him. Please review if you liked! :)

A/N2: A few people seem to think this is all in Aaron's head... interesting theory :) I'm not saying a word.


	3. Chapter 3

Hello :) First of all, I want to say that this is the last in this trilogy of Aaron and Marta ficlets. I wanted to round things out with a look at Marta's progression from scientist to warrior and proving herself. I hope I've achieved that. Thank you all so much for the reviews for this fanfic; all the kindness has kept me going when I couldn't think of anything to write. If you like this chapter, please review :)

So, here is the final part, wherein Marta picks up a gun and proves herself a warrior.

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3

It's during the battle he first notices.

He wants to know how they went from beautiful rural idyll, making a home for each other to a scene of death and destruction in 10 seconds flat. The middle of the night, lit by candlelight, saw them strike. Five men, armed and dangerous, are storming their castle and chipping away at the life Aaron and Marta have made. Aaron, in just his ratty old sweatpants, grabs a gun and starts shooting, pushing Marta behind him. They have orders to bring them in alive so he has the upper hand. They always want people alive just to kill them that much slower.

Marta cries out as agent number one grabs her arm roughly, so roughly Aaron shoots the guy's hand off at the wrist and feels better for it. There's so much blood but it doesn't matter. He's made vows to her to keep her safe and he'll kill to keep it. He wasn't a liar and he won't let them turn him into one now, not when there's so much at stake for him too. He pulls her into the bathroom and barricades the door. He glimpses the sink and remembers tasting her on there the night before. Everything changes in a split second. "Aaron?" she's standing stock still, frozen in the corner, dressed in her vest and shorts. The night air is still cold. "Aaron, what do we do?"

He rips the mirror off the bathroom wall and pulls out his ammo stash. He hadn't exactly told her about this but there wasn't any time. "My job." He mutters, fitting together another gun and handing it to her, "I need you to shoot at anything that moves that isn't me. Just like we practised, just like all that training, okay?" He hears shots at the door and pulls her down as he crouches. She feels cold. "You want to get out of here alive, right?" Marta locks the ammo in the gun and nods. The steel in her once warm eyes is there. She may be a warrior but he's the one who's taught her how to survive. "Then we'll get out alive together or not at all." He presses a quick kiss to her lips. The last act of love for a man approaching the hangman's noose. "Okay?"

Marta smiles slowly, "I know." She pulls back the gun and looks at him. She's never been so sexy to him. Girls with guns. "Go." She mutters.

Aaron slinks along the wall and kicks open the door.

Everything is a blur. He immediately takes down number one, the one with his hand shot off, a bullet to the forehead, brains on their sleeping bag. He sees Marta behind the stone wall of the bathroom, poking her head through and shooting for the knees like he's told her to. It'd be good if they kept an assassin alive, extract what they needed to and left him as a message. Do not fuck with us or we will fuck with you. He's not even sure he's on the good side of right anymore. Aaron's going hand to hand with numbers three and four. It's a rhythm he knows too well.

Two's been downed by Marta, his screams of pain echo through the sounds of bullets past Aaron's ears. Aaron punches, kicks, disables their guns and shoots number three in the heart. 15 seconds down. He sees Marta come out and wants to scream at her not to. She starts firing at black blurs behind him. Five is hiding. Five is a coward. Number two, writhing in pain from the hole in his knee, grabs Marta's ankle and slices with a switchblade. She screams and Aaron's heart stops. "Mother fucker!" she cries out and stomps down on his shot knee, the crack as the patella breaks her victory and revenge. She kicks the knife from his hand clear across the room and grunts for her gun as shots swim past her body, Marta ducking them.

He looks over and everything slows. 25 seconds down. He's killed numbers one, three and four. Two is demobilised. Number five is aiming a gun at Marta's head. She can't see him. Aaron takes a breath, about to raise his gun and take down number five when Marta whips around and shoots five point blank in the head. Her arm is straight and unwavering. The breeze from the open window whips in and curls her dark hair around her pale, blood spattered face. The gash on her ankle is dripping blood down her foot. She's an agent now. His warrior made in 30 seconds. Done.

There's something in the air that makes 30 seconds seem so significant. He can't keep his eyes from her. His gun doesn't waiver, he doesn't even need to aim for number five, now dead in front of him. It was supposed to be an easy hitter, in one fell swoop. Aaron's target. Now all he wants to do, all he can seem to do, is to stare at her. See her warrior come out to the fullest beauty he knows she is capable of. He's always thought she glides when she fights in the forest with him, training quicker than any agent he's known.

She always dances with danger; only she was the one playing the grim reaper and cutting swathes through guards, armies, and champions now. She has the control but he prefers it that way. In 30 seconds, she becomes more than Marta Shearing; more than he could ever dream of taming (like he'd ever want to tame). She is power and beauty and death and dangerous liaisons. Aaron knew in those 30 seconds – among dust, blood, cries, destruction – that there was at one person he could come home to. Only one person he wants to come home to. Marta.

She looks at him and smiles, lowering her gun. "You're a good teacher." She answers his unasked question. The breeze still whips her hair and he smiles slowly. If Marta's an angel it's an angel of death sent to collect him. He's happy with that. Aaron steps over the dead bodies and kisses her hard, ignoring the whimpering number two on the floor beneath them. Aaron doesn't deserve her, but she deserves him and he kisses her even harder.

"You have no idea how hot you are right now."

She smirks and raises an eyebrow, "About as hot as you are." She pecks his lips, "Just a second." She steps back and kicks number two in the head hard, grunting as she does. "That's for interrupting."

Aaron laughs and takes her hand. There may be more battles, more running, and more trials but they had each other and that's always been enough for him.

He'll never fall in love again.

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To be continued in

_Radical Violence and Other Fairytales_

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A/N: so what do you think of avenging angel Marta? Do you think she can keep up with Aaron now? Will Aaron feel good about what Marta's become? Stay tuned for the next trilogy, coming this weekend!


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